


Curiosity Did More Than Kill The Cat

by Cup_of_Lou



Series: Just a Moment in Our Time [4]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Established Relationship, M/M, One Shot, small amount of fluff, where there is fluff there must be angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 16:51:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1109231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cup_of_Lou/pseuds/Cup_of_Lou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Whatcha writing in there babe?” I gave myself away as I was about to sit down on the cushion to his right with floppy limbs. I didn’t expect for his eyes to grow wide with fear as they met mine, or for him to close the book as quickly as he did and stuff it on the side that I wasn’t on.</p><p>“Just- er- It-it’s nothing.” His coverup was suspiciously empty, the way he tried to play it off with his award-winning smile like it would erase my memory. I narrowed my eyes at him and I could see the way he physically froze at my questioning look. He was always a horrible liar.</p><p>(Or where Harry has a secret notebook and Louis is simply curious)<br/>My tumblr is http://cup-of-lou.tumblr.com</p>
            </blockquote>





	Curiosity Did More Than Kill The Cat

I dropped the keys on the kitchen counter along with the grocery bags, thankful that my arm could finally have a break from carrying the heavy paper bags up the flights of stairs to our flat. I could hear the TV on in the other room, and a quick glance over the island that separates the kitchen and living room, my thought was confirmed. Harry was sitting with his legs crossed, in the middle of the couch like he liked to do, but his head was turned downwards towards his lap instead of the reality how he had the channel turned too.

“I got the groceries.” I tore my eyes away from his adorable posture to start putting away the food. “They didn’t have your favorite brand body wash, but I got one that seemed to be similar enough.” I slid the bottle to the other side of the counter so he would remember it, pulling out some frozen pizza to put into the freezer.

“Seriously? They always try to discontinue it.” He groaned from the living room, “But thanks for going shopping anyway, the one you picked will probably work the same.”

“I’d hope so.” I finished with the first bag, collapsing it to put into the trash before starting on the second bag. It was a short, quick run for some things that he had put onto a list for me, so I only had these two bags to worry about before I could go and snuggle with Harry.

I had to put away some vegetables, some stuff that he said he would use for a dinner somewhere later in the week, and then I could finally return to his space-heater embrace. We had been dating for a month and a half, a short time filled with honeymoon love, and I was still pleasantly surprised that he cooked as much as he did. On the other hand, he was always shocked that I only knew how to cook scrambled eggs, semi-edible toast, and very simplistic macaroni and cheese. We were a match made in the stars, I would say, because he could cook, and I couldnt, while I could do laundry, and he hadn’t a clue how to do the latter.

I was done with the second bag in no time, collapsing it and putting it in the same place as the other one before shaking off my shoes and going into the living room. The TV was set at an unneededly loud volume, so it was no wonder that Harry didn’t hear me when I crept my way into the living room. His head was still focused into his lap, and when I moved closer I saw it was because he was writing in a journal.

His writing was slightly sloppy, his hand moving feverishly at some points and then stopping completely at others. But from where I stood, I couldn’t make out the words or letters for anything, but whatever he was writing, he was immensely focused on it. Even as I continued to move closer, he didn’t notice me.

“Whatcha writing in there babe?” I gave myself away as I was about to sit down on the cushion to his right with floppy limbs. I didn’t expect for his eyes to grow wide with fear as they met mine, or for him to close the book as quickly as he did and stuff it on the side that I wasn’t on.

“Just- er- It-it’s nothing.” His coverup was suspiciously empty, the way he tried to play it off with his award-winning smile like it would erase my memory. I narrowed my eyes at him and I could see the way he physically froze at my questioning look. He was always a horrible liar.

“You sure?” I knew it wasn’t my place to poke, hell, we were still getting used to each other and living in the same flat, I wasn’t going to expect him to tell me all his secrets. But it didn’t mean I couldn't be a little weary of his horrible lying skills.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” He nodded away the look in his eyes to replace it with something else that I couldn’t put my finger on, “Just c’mere, I want a cuddle.” He wanted to change the subject completely, and I wasn’t one to deny a good cuddle. I grabbed the blanket from off the floor, pulled it over both of us as I situated myself into his side

“You are a giant kitten.” I laughed at his goofy dimpled smile, his arm rolling instinctively around my chest as I moved into him. For now I would forget about the mysterious journal, just for now.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The next time I saw the secretive journal was when we were both over and Liam and Zayns flat, sharing a friday night in with each other as we neared our Two Month anniversary. We had already had chinese takeout, Liam storing away all the leftovers while Zayn and I broke out the FIFA. Harry opted not to play, curling up in their love-seat while I sat in front of the TV with Zayn. Liam was in the recliner, opposite the love-seat, reading some book for Uni that he had said needed to be read.

“Don’t you….NO!” Zayn growled at me as he slammed his thumb down onto another button, a puny attempt at trying to stop me from getting the goal I had been pursuing for a while now. Whoever thought Zayn was a mellow person has never seen him playing FIFA. “You are not getting that goal.” We were tied, two to two, and he knew I was getting closer and closer to my third goal with every skilled pass I kicked.

“You wish you could stop me.” I pressed one button, resulting in one pass, and with one last pass, I had finally gotten my goal. My scream of success ricochet throughout the house as I pumped my fist in the air. The screen flashed with my goal-scoring replay and Zayn let out a small wail of defeat before his face snapped to mine. Even without looking, I could feel his heated stare of hatred.

“That was the shittiest goal Tomlinson, you didn’t even deserve it!” Zayns eyes were ablaze with his anger, while I wore the smuggest grin I could muster up with all his hatred being pinpointed on me.

“That goal was ace, you just have shit defense and an even shittier goalie.” I turned back to the screen, continuing to watch my pass by pass replay of my wondrous goal. I had spent well enough time passing the damn ball around, I had deserved that goal with everything I had.

“You’re the one with the shit goalie, those two shots I got in were bottom corner. A baby could have blocked them,” He huffed out his nose before clicking a button to try and remove the goal-replay screen, “/Harry/ could have blocked them for godsake.”

“Heyyy…” Harry’s slow drawl pulled out his complaint as I knocked my shoulder against Zayns with furrowed brows. He was wearing his kitten pout, wrapped in one of Liam’s white puffy blankets as he watched us play.

“I don't need an ace goalie when you’re team can’t even get it pass my striker.” I snapped, “Haz could beat your team being a fucking forward, plus he would have saved those two shit goals your team passed in.” I pressed a couple of buttons so that we were off the replay screen and back to the starting screen so Zayn could kick off. “Let’s have the next goal be the winning goal, I’m getting tired of beating your sorry arse.”

“Then we can watch a movie, Batman or something.” Liam groaned, suddenly active in our bantering conversation, “I am going to murder someone if I had to read another chapter of this stupid book.” He closed the book dramatically, throwing it onto the coffee table with a slapping noise that I paid no attention too.

Zayn was trying to get the ball past my four-two-four formation but was sadly, and pathetically I might add, failing at it. His team was shit, he didn’t play enough to upgrade all his players. While I, on the other hand, had an all gold team, minus the goalie of course. Zayn was made up of bronze with a few gold that was given to him when he first started. He needed an upgrade if he even wanted to stand a chance at beating me.

“Sure babe, we can do that.” Zayn had his bottom lip pulled between his lip as he pressed the buttons on his controller like it was a life or death situation. Which it wasn’t, because it was clear that I was going to win this game. I had already stolen the ball, and my players were advancing past his offence and going on to his defense. He was struggling to get his players back onto the ball, and with a few dazzling tricks I could only wish to be able to do in real life, I had already passed his right side defense.

“This game is going to be over soon anyway.” I was stalling, trying to give him some time to recover. But the shot was there, his defense had made a perfect path for me to jab through and pass to my left forward to send it through. I had to take it. And I did, the ball passing through his stopper and to my forward for the perfect, net rippling shot. Zayn released a set of swears, dropping his controller to hide his face in his hands.

“What did I say?” I laughed cruelly as I placed my own controller on the table. The screen was flashing with a largely printing ‘Goal’ sign. “I knew the game was going to be short.”

“You are the stereotypical football twat, Tommo, I swear.” Zayn groaned, allowing for his murderous glare-through-the-fingers act fall as he sighed out his anger. “Just pass me the telly control so we can watch the movie.” I nodded, handing him the controller just as Liam brought over his blanket to sit next to Zayn and stealing my seat.

“Scootch your bum Hazzy, I’m sitting with you.” I shrugged off the seat stealing, hopping over to where Harry was in his own little world. At my words, his eyes snapped up from where they were in his lap, and I didn’t have to look twice to see that he was cradling his leather-bound journal in his lap.

This time, he was drawing instead of writing down words I couldn’t read. I could clearly see the drawings, a scratch-lined ship next to a compass, a lock and a similarly drawn key side by side. I could also see some artfully designed words, something about Change and the word ‘can’t’. But once Harry saw where my eyes were directed, he slapped the book closed and hid it into the side of the couch.

“You too good with Batman?” Zayn had switched the screens so we could be watching the On-Demand movie section.

“Yeah, go ahead and play it.” I said numbly, taking my seat next to Harry as the screens switched for the movie.

I angled myself so I was looking at Harry, whose face was pink with a blush and eyes casted downward because I had caught him again with his leather-bound secret. I had forgotten about the book since the last time I had caught him with it, but now my questions were bubbling out of my and my curiosity had been ignited again.

“Come on Harry, can’t you tell me what you’re doing in that book of yours?” I whispered, my eyes glancing cautiously over at Liam and Zayn. They were both cuddled up, watching the movie without any regards towards us, which made it even easier for me to have this conversation with him.  We were two months in now, I would call it safe to prod this problem now.

“It’s just some stuff.” He looked up so our eyes could meet, his blush wearing off as he gave me a small smile that was his attempt at a coverup. “Nothing interesting, I swear.” He wasn’t giving me anything to go on, which only made my curiosity grow even more.

“Then why are you hiding it from me?” I whined, wiggling so I was laying onto his lap and looking up at him with my best puppy-dog look. His smile grew with the small action, poking my cheek with his finger. I whined again, slightly louder, yet he just shook his curls at me as I looked up at him from his lap.

“It’s just some stuff, you’ll be wasting your time looking at it.” His lying had gotten slightly better, I thought, but I could still sniff his lies out a mile away. “Promise me you won’t go looking in it?”

I thought about it slightly, “Why should I promise about not looking in something that would waste my time? Wouldn’t it make sense that I don’t look in something that would be worth my time?”

“Come on Lou, just promise me you won’t.” I was trying to use my sass, my childish attitude to confuse him, but it wasn’t working. He was dead set on getting my damn promise about this.

Why he didn’t want me to see what was in his notebook made me extremely curious, but now I knew that it meant something to him, and he /really/ didn’t want me to look in it. But what could be in his book that I hadn’t already come to terms with? He was about the most open book I had ever met, so I had learnt his ways quickly. But this must have been the last page, the page he didn’t want me to see. And they say curiosity killed the cat, they weren’t lying.

I sighed, “Fine. I won't look in it, I promise.” I nuzzled into his shirt and my nose filled with his shampoo, and the slightly off smell of the new body wash that he had started to use. “Just so you know, making me promise /not/ to look into some journal of your’s makes me want to look in it even more, right?”

“Yeah, I know boo,” He craned his neck down to kiss the side of my forehead, “Just don't, alright? I'll swear I’ll let you see it when the time is-er- right.”

“Okay.” I turned away from his body so I was facing the screen, “We can watch the movie now. Celebrate our two months without any stupid fighting.”

“Yeah, we can definitely do that.” He moved the hand that was covering the journal up into my hair, twirling the tuffs of my fluffy hair like it would somehow pull out the questions from my mind.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The journal disappeared after that day, and didn’t show up until a month and a week later. The leather-bound secret made its third guest appearance on a dreary Sunday, with rain and a broken heater dampening our daily mood. We were both suffering with the cold, with Harry wearing his thickets jumper and warmest pants along with a blanket he snagged off the couch. I was dressed in similar attire, except I had socks and a jacket on over my sweater.

“I think I’m just going to take a shower.” Harry huffed at his tea, his fingers tapping on the ceramic mug that had lost its heat a while back. “I feel like I’m going to freeze my toes off without the damn heating.” I didn’t even have to look at him to know he was pouting. The heating repair man was said to come tomorrow at the earliest, so Harry had taken to pouting his way through the wait period.

“I told you to wear socks.” I took the mug from his hands, dumping out the luke-warm tea into the sink before his incisive tapping could drive me crazy. He grumbled minimally, wrapping the blanket tighter around his broad shoulders from where he sat on the kitchen island as I placed the mug back on the counter. “You can go ahead, I had a shower before you woke up. There should be enough hot water for you by now.”

“You sure you don’t want to join me?” He hopped down off the counter and stood close enough to wrap the blanket around both of us. “We could both warm up by it.” His head was resting on my shoulder, his breath warm as he spoke into my head Leave it to Harry to try and get sex out of no heating.

“I have to finish cleaning up the mess from dinner last night,” I rolled around so I was standing with my back on the counter and my face inches away from his. He was wearing his optimistic smile, “/Someone/ thought it would be a good idea to have sex right after dinner and leave all the food to dry on the pots.”

He simply shrugged it off and got closer, “Well /someone/ couldn’t stop being so damn adorable.” He pressed his lips to mine, but I wasn’t going to fall for his act that easily.

“Nope, nope,” I gave his chest a soft push and in return I got a sad whimper, “Don’t try and distract me lover boy, I have cleaning to do. You just go take your shower, and then afterwards we can evaluate how sex-ed up I feel.” I gave him yet another small shove in the direction of the bathroom. My will was already crumbling, he knew that.

“Come on babe,” He moved closer with his puppy dog eyes on full effect, “You can leave the food for just thirty minutes, it’ll still be there when you come back.”

“You and I both know it will be longer than thirty minutes if I go with you,” I pushed him away one last time before I turned back to the sink of dishes that I had yet to even start on, “Now go take your bloody shower before I go outside and hose you down myself.”

He frowned, “That’s not very nice.” He deepened the frown and looked down at his feet. He was bloody pathetic, I knew he was trying to get me out of my right mind and go with him, but I wasn’t going to allow it. He knew that too, the bloody mind reader, because his eyes flickered up with the smallest look of hope. He knew my weaknesses.

I gave in slightly, moving so I could give him a quick peck on the cheek before patting his chest, “Just go take your shower babe, I’ll still be out here when you come out.” Another peck on the cheek caused for his eyes to meet mine, like I had wanted, “And maybe when you’re all clean, we can get you dirty again.” I raised my eyebrows just enough so that his grin would peak out.

“Fine.” He tried his best to grumble and hide his smile. He turned around, his blanket cape slapping against my legs as I moved close enough to give him a motivational slap on the ass. He let out a small squeak before he turned to glare at me, lumbering his way towards the bathroom before dropping the cape outside the door.

“Unbelieveable.” I shook my head, hearing the few beginning notes of some Shakira song being belted before he closed the door and started the water, efficiently fading out his loud singing. I was dating a giant teenage girl, I thought as I grabbed the sponge and started on the meat-stained pan from last night.

It was taco night last night, being a Saturday and all, it was our new-found tradition. Harry made amazing taco’s, and I had a knack for making decent guacamole, so we made sure that every Saturday night we would share a couple of taco’s while watching whatever show was on the telly. Last night, we had gotten a bit distracted, and allowed for the taco meat to dry onto the pan, and now I was working with a juice and fat stained pot of dried out meat. Disgusting.

I tried at the pot for a couple of minutes, my arm growing sore as my background turned into being another pop song of Harry’s liking that I couldn’t quite make out. I tried for another minute or so before I finally called it a quits and started to work on the littler things to calm myself down. Plates, cups, silverware, anything that was better than the cement-dried pot of food from the night before. I would leave that for Harry to tackle, I noted, because he was the one who allowed for it to dry anyway.

I filled up the dishwasher with everything that could fit before starting it, happy that there was only the meat pan and a bowl of old cheese to throw away that was left over for me to handle. I filled the pan with soap and water, telling myself that I would allow for it to soak before bothering with it again, and threw away the cheese without a second thought. Hard cheese was disgusting when it was supposed to be soft and creamy. After I had taken care of the whole kitchen, I noticed that I could have gone to shower with him. But Harry wouldn’t need to know that,

With one last glance around the kitchen, I found myself satisfied with the cleaning job I had done. The cheese was easy enough to throw away, and now the bowl sat in the sink, waiting its turn to be washed by dishwasher. I wiped my hands on the dish towel by the side of the sink before saundering out into the living room where the TV was playing on mute. Harry must have been watching it before, he says its better background noise than music for him, which was always something that perplexed me.

I grabbed the remote off of the coffee table, plopping down onto the couch as I clicked the button. A Doctor Who rerun was playing, and a David Tennant episode as well, so I was quick to get comfortable. It was the episode where the Doctor was in the library, one of my favorite two part episodes. As my feet grew cold I regretted allowing Harry to take the blanket and drop it so far down the hallway, but I was soon comforted when I saw a blanket on the side of the couch. I grabbed it, tugging it towards my legs. But as I moved it, it uncovered something that I hadn’t seen in what felt like forever.

Harry’s notebook.

It was closed, fitted between the couch cushion and the side of the couch like he was  trying to hide it. There was also a pen, clipped onto the leather cover like he had just set it down. This was the longest I had been allowed to look at the book, mostly because Harry wasn’t here to hide it from my eyes.

I noticed now that the cover was written on, doodle on with no other than Harry’s chicken scratch drawings. ‘Please’ and ‘One and Only’ were written, etched  cruley into the leather, while quickly drawn stars accompanied the words. I didn’t think twice about reaching for the leather, feelings its worn down grooves on my fingers like fire. I was finally close enough to touch the book that had fueled so many questions.

Now was my time, I could finally look into the pages and see what Harry had been hiding from me. I could read it and put it back like nothing had ever happened, when in reality I had finally answered all the questions that Harry didn’t want to answer himself. I didn’t think twice about opening the book, my promise long forgotten as I cracked open the book.

Inside was very far from what I had been expecting it to be. I was expecting something like satanic curses, very bad poetry, hell, even some very bad drawings, but what my eyes were met with were none of the above.

The book was about me. Well, loosely that is. It was tattoo ideas, lyrics about or involving me, and as I continued on, I saw mentions of baby names.

There was some very original tattoo ideas crudely sketched onto the pages, and it suddenly clicked that that was what I had been watching him draw that one time back at Liam and Zayns. I vaguely remember talking to Harry about getting tattoos one night when I had been looking at a few of his, saying that I wouldn’t mind getting some if I had a right reason too. He must have remembered, I thought as I flipped page after page of his book.

The lyrics were original too, when I read them. He had always been a music fanatic, and still was by the sounds of his high notes coming from the bathroom. It would only make sense that he was making lyrics about it, not to sound cocky or anything. He was always so creative, I could tell him to make a song about a pear and he could do so beautifully.

But overall, the baby names was the thing I wasn’t expecting the most. I mean yeah, I want to have kids when I’m older, but I hadn’t really given much thought to the idea of having a family, least of all having a family with Harry. But I could see him being a father, he was already so well-tempered with me and my attitude, imagine what he would be like with kids. Some of the names were names I would consider, Anna or Joshua or Emma, but some of them, the ones that were thankfully crossed out, like Gertrude or John, were not at all where my thoughts would be going for naming my child.

This book seemed to be his planning guide, his diary almost. I flipped through the pages, soaking in all the details of Harry’s mind. His drawings were cute, childlike even, and seeing his renderings of tattoos was something I wouldn’t mind getting etched into my skin. He also had some sentences and dates explaining things, like on one page he had written down the date of when we went out to get ice cream and it ended up in ice-cream stained shirts and sticky faces.

I was smiling down at the book, too deep in concentration over the doodles and lyrics to songs I wanted to hear, the memories that were written on the pages, to notice that his shower singing had stopped, that the shower had stopped as well, and that Harry had made his way out into the living room and was now padding over towards me.

“I’m ready for my promised sex now-” I couldn’t hide the book quick enough as he came up behind me, only dressed in his fluffy white towel. I slapped the pages together in a sad attempt at hiding the book.

“What are you doing with my notebook?” I closed my eyes, squeezing them shut at the sound of his hurt voice. The sound enough was punishment, but I knew I had to turn around and face him. I opened my eyes to something that was ten times worse than the injured voice. His face was swimming with many emotions, pain, fear, disappointment, and my own heart rate increased with my own guilt. His hair was still dripping from his shower, a few beads running down his face as he stares at me.

“I wasn’t- I didn’t-” My mind was racing for an excuse, yet it was numb and frozen at the same time. I was caught. The look on his face fell even further at my sad cover up attempt, and even I wanted to punch myself now.  I could visibly see him gulp, his adam’s apple bobbing as he closed his eyes.

“You promised not to look.” His voice was barely a whisper, his hand white where it was clenching at the towel around his waist. If I had know this was what was awaiting me if I had looking into his journal, I would have thrown the book halfway across the world to avoid this. “You /promised/.”

“Babe I-”

“No, just,” He cut me off, shaking his head as he reached over the couch to grab the book from my hands. His grasp was light, and I had no want to fight him on this. “Just...just not now.” He looked at me with a look I would never want to be replayed before he shook his head and turned to go into our bedroom.

I watched him leave, any words that I wanted to say being blocked by the lump in my throat. His posture was slouched even more than usual as he made his way into our shared bedroom with sadness leaking out of him. I could barely hear his sniffles as he went into the room, closing the door with a very audible click that locked more than just our room.

I had really fucked up.

 

 

* * *

 

 

I had never seen Harry so withdrawn over anything, it was scary to say the least. At first I had thought that it was only a phase, that he would slowly come around and would do something, like talk about it or even acknowledge that it had happened. But I was wrong. He continued to pretend that it hadn’t happened, and I didn’t know whether it was the fact he was ignoring the problem, or the fact that he was ignoring /me/ that made me the most angry.

He just became further and further detached. He wouldn’t allow me to touch him, in bed or on the couch, even the simple tap of the shoulder sent him flinching away from me with a mumbled sorry on his part. He couldn’t even look me in the eye anymore, turning his gaze to his hands for the few times I had actually gotten him to talk to me. And even those ‘conversations’ had, at the most, ten words. I couldn’t survive with just ten words between me and Harry.

Every morning, when I would wake up on the couch or on a good day, the bed, I would be met with coldness and /no Harry/. I would brush my teeth without Harry behind me to do his finger drumming on my hips, and go into the kitchen to find the cereal box left out for me on the counter, and again, no Harry. There would be no pancakes with chocolate chips waiting for me, no bacon and an omelet, just cereal. And every morning, I would pour that god forsaken, shitty box of cornflakes into my bowl with even more hatred for myself.

It took me six days, six /full/ days, before I sobered up enough to realise that I had to do something to snap us both out of this depressing rhythm. We were both painfully avoiding each other in the same flat,  both of us too stubborn to be the first to give up on a battle that should have ended long ago.

The break in the rhythm came on a Sunday morning, when both Harry and I happened to have woken up around the same time. We were both in the kitchen, munching on our corn flakes without words between us, just the invisible tension that was slowly eating us apart as well.

We had a small kitchen, one of the many disadvantages to not having a high-paying job. Between the two of us, the rent was manageable, but we weren’t making enough to get a larger flat. So, moving around each other in our small spaces was a must and had become a second language for us.

A tap on the shoulder here, a hip bump there, we had learned what we liked to call the ‘Hazza and Lou Second Language’. Basically, it was our understanding of how the other moved around, how the other worked, and it came in handy for when we were trying to maneuver each other in small spaces, like our kitchen. But it didn’t work for times like this, when touches resulted in frozen feet instead of what the signal meant.

I had finished with my cereal, pouring the leftover milk down the sink because /Harry/ liked the leftover cereal milk, I didn’t, and I was going to put it into the dishwasher when I noticed that Harry was in my way. The actual me, the one that was dealing with the aloneness, knew that we were both at ends with each other, but the subconscious ‘Hazza and Lou’ me didn’t. I reached out with my hand to tap his hip, the signal to move out of the way, but he did move out of the way. Sort of.

He flinched away from my hand, like I had touched him with a heated brand instead of my slightly cold hand. And as he flinched away from me, something inside me snapped. I was done with this. I couldn’t handle this tension between us anymore, I wanted my Hazza back. I had had enough of this flinching, untouchable person that was taking over my Hazza.

“Oh my fucking god.” I mumbled before I could clamp my mouth shut, a surge of adrenaline pumping through me because I had finally spoken up. After the excrusiating silence, I had finally taken ownership of my fuck-up and I had /finally/ done something about it.

My eyes instantly flashed to his face, seeing that he was actually looking at me with a sort of relief. At my face, more importantly, and the eye contact was a long-lost friend. I watched as his face flashed with emotions, most of which were too fast for me to recognize, before he finally settled on looking at me with furrowed brows and questions swimming in his eyes.

“What?” He was finally speaking to me directly, yet another thing I had missed in his ‘absence.’ He had taken to speaking around me, giving me small bits of information instead of telling them to my face. I couldn’t be blamed for the small twinge of giddiness that bubbled in me.

“I miss you, that’s /what/.” I pretended like I hadn’t said what I had just said, opening the dishwasher to put the bowl on the top rack. I could feel him stiffen, hear his sudden intake of breath because the house was as deathly quiet as it had been for the six days.

“Don’t try and blame me for you breaking your promise.” His voice was quiet, sheepish even, as he muttered his words. I knew he was wearing that dan pout, only now I couldn’t exactly kiss it off of him.

“I’m sorry that I got curious, okay?” I turned towards him and met his eye. His gaze quickly averted to staring at the tiles on our kitchen floor, “But you didn’t tell me for months. I gave you months of time and you still never told me what it was.”

“Maybe because I had a reason not too.” His eyes momentarily flashed to mine before they were back onto the tile. “There was a reason why I made you promise me to let me have my /one/ secret.”

“Babe, we aren’t meant to have secrets,” I crossed my arms over my chest, “We’re in a two person relationship. That means I give you all of me, and you give me all of you. That’s how it supposed to be, but with us its not.”

“Oh, bullshit!” Harry rarely ever raised his voice, being the mellow person he was, but when he did, you knew it was serious. “I gave you everything. But you just had to go poking your damn nose into something that was off limits to you, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I did.” I snapped, desperately trying to gulp down the anger that was rising in me, “Because I was supposed to know you up and down, left and fucking right, so I wondered what the hell could have been off limits to me in the first place when I know you so bloody well.”

“Well, were you happy with what you found?” I stared at him, my face probably bright red from how I was shouting. He was just as red, his face both hurt and angry at no one else but me, which only hurt even more.

“What’s there to be happy about finding?” I stared at him as he stammered for words, his lips opening then closing again and again, “Harry, you could have told me it was a damn diary instead of making it seem like you were planning mission impossible behind my back!”

His face fell back into confusion, “What?” He squeaked, “You just thought it was a diary?” His reaction was completely different than what I had thought it to be. He looked shocked, but not in the offended kind of way, more like he was trying to wrap his mind around something that I didn’t catch. It only pissed me off even more

“Yeah, what fucking else would it be? A science experiment?” I was being an ass, a total ass, but I couldn’t stop myself. I was still angry at him for his close to a week silence, sue me if I sasses a little bit too much.

“You...You don't htink I’m some giant romanticizing creep?” It was an actual question, and his eyes stuck to mine as he awaited his answer.

“Fuck, no, Harry. Why would I think that you’re a creep? We’re dating, god dammit, I thought it was sweet that you pictured us being together in the future. Not fucking creepy!” I ran a hand over my face as I tried to take calming breaths. Yelling wouldn’t help at all, not right now at least. “Is that what you thought I thought? That you were some fantasizing creep?”

He nodded lamely, “Kind of. I didn’t know how you would take it.” He turned his stare from me to the ground again, and I wanted to cry with frustration. He was stubbing his bare foot against the tile with a conflicted twist of his mouth. But it all clicked, now that he had /actually/ talked to me instead of avoiding me like the plague. It all made sense now.

Harry had thought that I hated him for having a dream diary. He thought that I was going to dump him on the spot for picturing us together, which was quite the opposite of what I thought. It made sense now, why he tried so hard to hide the damn book from me. He was scared that I would freak out on him.

“How come you always think the opposite of me?” I took a step closer to him with a small smile growing on my lips, “I think it’s quite adorable, that you love me enough to keep me around long enough for a future to form.” I took another step, the closest I had been to him in almost a week. I could see how nervous his eyes were, how they were flickering around him.

“Really?” It was his turn to look at me, a hint of something in his eyes that could only be described as happiness.

“Of course you tosser,” I gave a full smile now, “You're child names are the same as I would want, the lyrics are heart warming, and your couple tattoo’s are something I wouldn’t mind getting drawn onto me.” I took the last step, the most daring step of them all, and placed my hand on his hip. Instead of flinching away like he had been doing, I could feel him loosen under my touch, and I didn’t hide the huge smile that found its way to my lips. Finally, we had gotten that problem out of the way.

“I missed you, you irrationally minded baboon.” I wrapped him in a hug that he responded with his own arms wrapping around me. “Don’t ever try to hide something like that from me again, I almost lost you.”

“I’m sorry Lou.” He whispered into my hair, “I didn’t want to be that creepy person who started planning the wedding after the first date.” Of course you didn't, I thought.

“But we’ve been dating for months!” I twisted out of his strong grip to look him in the eyes. He seemed to think about it before his shoulders rose into a shrug.

“Doesn’t matter, I still felt creepy.” He laughed, his dimple popping out like a reassurance to me. I hadn’t seen it in too long, sue me if I wanted to kiss it into permanence.

“Don’t ever do that again.” I pressed my lips to his in a six-day awaited kiss. He melted yet again as I broke down his last wall, finally able to touch him like I wanted to.

“I won't.” He mumbled before pulling my lips back to his.

 

 

 

  
  
  



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